Hunters and Heretics
by Vhial
Summary: With the the Imperial world of Aitox Prime being crushed under the forces of the Dark Gods, man and women fight for survival against what appears to be endless horde of heretics. There is no salvation or hope in the 41st millennium, only death and war.
1. Prologue

Prologue

When the sky rains fire and the city burns.

When the false angels walk amongst men.

We shall know our death has come. Our souls to be taken by the warp beasts. It shall be a glorious death. After an eternity of death and destruction our time shall come.

None shall be saved when the angels fall upon us, their black blades glistening under a dead sun. Their eyes pierce the dark; and their way of war shall bring millions to their knees.

Devourers will claw their way fourth, salvation in the form of a nightmare.

But our true hope, our only hope, he will be long forsaken.

We will know our death, our transgressions will be our doom.

But we shall not stop.

-The words of the Astropath Major of Nuavis

-3 370 295.M37


	2. Chapter 1

1

The first landers arrived with confusion. The world was not at war, and had made no requests for extra personnel. But yet here they were, landing ships in their hundreds, descending upon vast cities filled with citizens looking to the sky.

And for many, that sight was their last. For before even the first ship had landed, their barrels erupted in fire. The mighty birds of the Imperial Navy opening fire upon untold millions. Las beams rained upon plazas and missiles fell upon the main defences. Hundreds, if not thousands, died within minutes. With the arced wings and roaring engines soared through the air for quite some time, many fell to the ground as the defence batteries fired in retaliation.

After enough destruction had been caused, the landing ships of lies begun their descent, finding open ground to set down on. Many took to the plazas now empty and others went higher, going to the landing pads of the towering buildings that formed the city centre.

A few made ground contact outside a garrison on the northern wall. By the time they were on the ground several squads of defenders had made their way outside and taken up defensive positions. The vox chatter as they came down was deafening.

"Sir, contact confirmed. Valkyrie class landers," from one man.

"Keep your positions, fire when you have visual," orders an officer.

Defenders without vox still speak, some offer prayers that they may survive, others have what they believe to be their final conversation with their friends, others are just silent in the face of the enemy.

As soon as the landing gear touches the ground the side doors slide open, revealing the attackers. They sprint out, zealous for battle. Autoguns firing at full auto, the apparent leaders commanding their men. They are rag tagged compared to the defenders of this world, with a simple, cream coloured body suit and some rough body armour. None look alike, they could instead be compared to a group of individuals who got together and they all had a similar taste in fashion.

But that didn't stop them, for they charged the defences, some got to the men defending and put a bayonet into them, others landed successful shots, but most died. Many died on both sides, but ultimately these men and women were pushed back to their landers, and from there they were slaughtered as they struggled to retreat.

Savo Malik was part of the defenders driving of the assault, and once the enemy was dead, he regrouped with the squad he was assigned to. A young man, no older than twenty five but the leader of a platoon. A respected line officer within the Defence Force.

He counted just six, three less than a few minutes prior.

His men were clearly part of one force, dark grey combat suits and white flak armour with squad markings. They were the defenders of a planet and nothing like those 'beasts' that had assaulted them prior. His second in command, Boleslav, hefted a flag displayed the Defence regiments emblem, a white maw on black background, beneath there was the platoon numerical designation.

"First squad, report," commanded Malik.

Six names were called out, before one more could be heard at another defence line. One last man making sure he was noticed by his commanding officer.

The soldier spluttered his words,"Mirkorvic, present."

Malik making way to his wounded man, and knelling down saw that he has taken a shot to his right leg, a puncture surrounded by his blood, in stark contrast to his pale appearance. The wounded soldier keeps his hand over the wound, applying pressure.

"Medics! Get wounded indoors, we need all men to be fighting again by the time the next assault arrives. The bastards will try again, and this gate shall not fall on my watch."

At Malik's orders the men of the platoon help the wounded, checking others to see if they still live, those who are dead are left. Medics come in and out of the garrison with stretchers.

With a turn of his head Malik can see what has taken place within such a short period of time, plumes of fire rise above building, Valkyrie's and moving around in the sky, some taking off again, and gun fire lighting up the dark metal of tall structures.

War had come to Aitox Prime, and this war would be brutal.

Several figures all stood crowded around one viewing window, all were clad in the same white uniform. Beyond the thick glass lay a war of rapid assault, attackers coming from orbit to brutally take any objective they needed, but they weren't aiming for tactical important targets, rather they seemed to be attacking with no pattern. The only thing that could be assured was that their numbers seemed to never stop. For hours landers had been coming and going, and they still came.

As the fighting and death of the Defence Force continued a heavy snow fall had started to coat the ground. Fires were put out under the weight of the white sheet.

"Don't just stand there gawking. Give me reports," boomed an aged and rugged voice.

All the figures turned to face their commanding officer, Colonel Miro Volen. An ancient man by any standards, but a well-respected tactician. His features are craggy, with short trimmed black hair and some stubble around his chin. He is dressed in formal uniform while all others are in flak armour.

"Well? Get on with it."

The first to speak was a Captain, Triska Kjosev, a veteran women who is responsible for tank deployments. "Sir, the fourth and fifth battle squadrons are reporting heavy resistance from heavy infantry in the southern manufactory district."

The next to speak was a frail man clad in red robes who was standing at the edge of the rooms, his dead voice is gargled through his vocaliser "The astropaths cannot make any contact beyond the reach of the system. They seem on edge about something, sire. But, they got one message out before their ability was blocked, it was a message requesting reinforcments."

Another few members assembled make comments, Volen listening contently and nodding. "Do we even know what this foe is?" the Colonel asks.

Many look at each other, clear that they don't want to answer.

"So you don't know what it is. Great," he complains.

An automatic door at the back of the room can be heard opening and closing, along with rushed footsteps.

"Sir," calls a junior officer, "They've begun to fly standards and bring down armour from orbit."

Volen rises from his chair to cast his gaze back at the boy; with the pressure put on him, and knowing what news he carries, he swallows and tells the assembled what he knows.

"The emblem it's an eight pointed star, they are-it is the archenemy, sir."

Lieutenant Malik and the remained of his squad sit cramped together in the back of an armoured transport, as it rumbles along they bump up and down on their benches. The platoon standard was left back at the north garrison, along with the rest of his men. The convoy is moving south on orders to meet up with another platoon to retake a central district.

The journey lasts some time and is uneventful due to their distance from the main fighting.

The driver calls back to the squad, "Sir, we are approaching an impasse zone, a sky walk up ahead is collapsed, and the next possible route would be another two hours. Orders?"

With a sigh from Malik, a response is voxed back to the driver, "Stop us here, we'll march further. Relay that to the rest."

"Yes sir."

The transport comes to a grinding halt and the rear door drops open, the Lieutenant's squad files out to watch the other three transports do the same. A total of thirty eight men.

"Well, it's freezing, it's snowing, and we're probably being watched," calls Malik, "but, I don't want to die when it's cold and snowing, so I plan to get back to the garrison after this is all over, put my feet up and have some recaf, but I can only do that if you all do your job."

A few chuckles can be heard among the men.

"So, we're all counting on each other to get back and drive those damn psycho's off this cold, blasted work. So, Rajko, make sure you have your rifle loaded correctly this time." With this comment more laughs can be heard and a couple troops give the man in question light punches on the arm.

"Then no more dawdling around. Get moving."

The squads start to make their way down the wide streets, snow and rubble crunching underneath their boots. Despite the attackers being here for just a few hours, much of the city lies in ruins, most of it from the original air strikes. This portion of the city was a housing district, with only a handful of defenders, when the renegades landed here most of the citizens fled in a hastily organised evacuation to the inner city, those who didn't get out were gunned down or killed in other more brutal ways. The corpses of many citizens can be seen underneath the snow fall, some of them are burnt to a crisp, and others stain the snow red.

The soldiers keep in line with their weapons raised, scanning the buildings as they move, always on edge, especially when something falls or breaks in the darkness of deserted buildings.

After a prolonged march the bodies of some attackers are found in the snow, they aren't recent as they are covered with the white blanket also.

The Lieutenant continues to lead his men past the bodies and ruins, making their way to the rendezvous location. The street starts to widen as they near a plaza and in the distance some las shots can be heard, but they are much farther away.

It's not long before the huddle of men arrive at the edge of a wide plaza, the Meeting Floor as it was called, due to the large amount of seating areas built in, many citizens from this part come here to talk, but now corpses of many can be seen lying in the snow, or hunched over benches.

A small band of figures can be seen at the other end. A vox message comes through to the vox carrier of the first squad.

"Identify yourself immediately or we will open fire."

Malik takes the comms piece and replies, "Lieutenant Savo Malik of the twenty third defence platoon."

A quiet laugh comes through the vox followed by a friendly voice, "Savo you muckdwelleer, I thought you'd never get here. Get over here, don't stay in the open too long."

A smile creeps across Malik's face before he leads his men across the plaza in a jog. It takes a few minutes before they arrive by their comrades' sides. Lieutenant Branko of the eighteenth. The two line officers clasp each other by the fore arm and a friendly pat on the back, other soldiers can be seen doing similar reunions.

"Malik," begins the Lieutenant, "what took you so long? We've been waiting for almost an hour and were about to move out."

Savo then begins his explanation, "A sky bridge by the main road had collapsed, and our transports couldn't get here. And what about you? You didn't come here on foot did you?"

"We did actually, I and my lovely bunch of men here were momentarily stationed nearby when the assault began; our location wasn't a target so we escaped casualties."

With a nod Malik forms his reply, "Well, we can't stay here much longer, dusk is just a few hours away and I don't want to be in the open at night."

"Aye, that's understandable. I sent some scouts up the way earlier, it seems the attackers have made their way into the inner city, where the fighting is thickest."

And with that the now much larger group begins to advance up much narrower roads, still very much on edge as the move past the still empty buildings and frozen bodies.


End file.
